Author: bhwang

It has taken me forever to write this last blog because, no matter how many times I tried to start and no matter how many different approaches I’ve taken, none of my numerous drafts seemed right. I mean, how do I even begin to wrap up the hurricane of emotions, labor, thoughts, revelations, and changes that blew through my life in the past two months, leaving me in a hodgepodge of possibilities, ideas, and questions? The answer is simply that I can’t. Having experienced personally how difficult it is to recruit others to your cause simply because there are just so many out there and by observing others in similar situations multiple times throughout my life, I have come to realize that in order for my kids to not go hungry every day, not to get sick, or to have a life beyond wandering the streets, their reality has to become a reality to you and me.

Fortunately and unfortunately, media is more than prevalent in our lives today. It is a topic that has been and is much discussed. Yes, through pictures and videos, people who cannot make the trip to the vast squatter camp in Epako, Namibia can get a glimpse into the shoeless, electricity-less, water-less, and a-lot-of-other-things-less lives my kids and their families have. But I myself cannot deny that I have become jaded to much of the suffering and injustices in the world because of the sheer bombardment of images presented on screens to me every day. But that fog screen has shattered for me during my two months at Tui Ni Duse Pre-School and the harsh lives so many people lead has become very real to me. That is not to say that my kids’ smiles are some of the biggest and brightest smiles I have ever seen in my life. It is something that many people like myself, who come from privileged lives that represent such a small minority in the world that visit places like Epako, experience often; the people here are so happy even with so little. So do we leave them in their sunshiny world that is uncorrupted by the evils of the modern world? Or do we give them the “gifts” the contemporary world has to offer along with the lethal side effects written in small print? I know it is not as black and white as those two questions pose, but they are questions I have been asking myself even before I went to Namibia as I was conducting the academic research beforehand.

As you might be able to imagine, this is a mind blowing dilemma that no one might ever find the answer to. But as my kids flash their beautiful smiles at me from the pictures on my wall, I can only think that no matter what I do, I cannot slip into the complacency of my luxurious life in America and push them back in my mind as “those poor starving kids in Africa,” as many people, I am sure, are guilty of doing. They are not just “poor starving kids in Africa.” Martinuis, despite going through a court procedure for stealing and slaughtering a farmer’s cows, uses his break time to practice spelling out his name instead of playing ball with his friends. Steftelin is a natural-born leader, often organizing her fellow classmates. Isak has stellar attendance, is engaged during class, and can often be seen sweeping up the classroom or running errands for the principal and teachers. Mannes and Rudolf are best friends—they walk to and from school together, share food with each other, wear matching sweaters, and sit quietly by each other.

School Portraits (from left to right): Martinuis, Steftelin, and IsakRudolf and Mannes, Best Friends For Life

Although I have known for a long time that teachers do not only influence your academic life, this has taken a whole new level of meaning for me: I can now be held accountable for their well-being. After entering the student-teacher bond with these children, I cannot back out now that I am more than 7,161 miles away. I have limitless opportunities here at Brandeis and in America and it has become a matter of life and death for my kids that I make the most of these opportunities. For starters, I am currently trying to establish an internship program so that others can have the strong personal experience I had, create an official website, and find ways to fund the school and teachers. Hopefully, in the future, we can make long-term improvements to school infrastructure to provide a better education and more opportunities to the students at Tui Ni Duse.

Class Photo!

To everyone and anyone planning to intern, teach, or volunteer, I would say, “Just do it.” We are incredibly blessed to have the ability and resources to make change in the world and to keep that to ourselves is to commit a deep injustice to so many people in the world.

*If you would like to intern at, become involved with, or get updates on Tui Ni Duse Pre-School, please contact me at bhwang@brandeis.edu and/or join the Tui Ni Duse page on facebook.

“Teachah! Teachah! Teachah!” The mob of children shouted as they ran towards our car, arms outstretched and faces beaming. It’s a sight that I’ve grown used to in the past few weeks, but one that never fails to stir up the wild flutter in my stomach and chest. The car slows down and the children press their faces up to the window, still chanting and peering in, impatiently waiting for me to get out. Just like every other morning, I’m amazed by how something so routine could still be so exciting and new as I step out of the car and return the embraces from the dozens of tiny, dusty hands that cover me.

In the past few weeks, we’ve established a regular morning routine: set up the chairs, take attendance, stretch, pray, review the alphabet, and then review all our other basics—colors, shapes, opposites, the five senses, days of the week, and body parts. Afterwards, we separate into groups and dive into the lesson plan that I’d labored over and meticulously thought out the day before for the next three hours until school is out. Despite the overwhelming amount of brainpower and physical labor required every day to prepare for the next, I’ve felt nothing but pure ecstasy (maybe except for the occasional back pains and hand cramps). As cliché as it sounds, all my work so far has felt like a labor of love. The physical strain from writing the alphabet 35 times and hand-making dozens of worksheets pales in comparison to seeing the vibrant smiles on my kids’ faces as they learn more every day. At this point of the internship, I feel like I have a pretty good handle on things; I’ve divided my class into four groups based on their writing, reading, and math abilities and we are making good progress in establishing our learning foundations.

Group 1 doing a shape and alphabet exercise in their workbooks.

I absolutely love everything about this internship, but it’s definitely not what I had expected. The mountains of hypothetical and academic preparation I did before coming to Namibia seemed all but to fly out the window as I had to hit the ground running as soon as I got settled. Coming to Tui Ni Duse four days a week for a month has made this internship feel like my actual job—and it feels great! I find myself thinking about Tui Ni Duse 24/7—even in my dreams! Constantly, I’m thinking about what I can do with the kids or how I can teach something in a different way so they can understand better. I even wake up in the middle of the night from dreaming about teaching the kids because of a sudden teacher’s epiphany! I know that a lot of it is from adrenaline because I can sleep as little as three hours to make more time for prep work and not feel tired the next day, but I also feel that the challenges of handling a large class alone has pushed me to improve my time management and multi-tasking skills as well as become more pro-active, responsible, and creative. Although I am not strictly following the plan I had laid out for myself before this trip, the literature I read and my anthropological training has definitely come in handy.

Going over our alphabet!Group 3 working on an alphabet activity

I am currently planning a parents’ day event when the parents can come and see what their children are capable of doing. I got the idea after visiting the home of a student who decided he didn’t want to come to school anymore. When I met his mother, I took out his notebook to show her the things he had been working on in school and what a good student he was. As she pored over the pages with amazement and pride, I realized that she had never seen any of her son’s schoolwork! Hopefully, this parents’ day will give parents something to be proud of, boost parent support of sending children to school, and shine a light on the benefits of education.

The big, dusty blue and white striped tent that I’ve seen in so many pictures came into view as we drove up to the entrance of Tui Ni Duse Pre-School. Already from about two blocks away, beautiful smiles, inquisitive stares, and shy waves welcomed me to the squatter camp where the school is located in Epako, Namibia. The tent is the only unique marker that separates Tui Ni Duse from the hundreds of other tin house complexes and makeshift stick fences that populate the squatter camp. As I opened the car door and stepped into the bright sunshine, all eyes seemed to follow me—something I’d already grown accustomed to in my first few days in Namibia where people are mostly either white or black. For about the twelfth time in the past five days, I wish I had a shirt that reads, “I’m not Chinese…I’m Korean,” because of the somewhat negative attitudes towards Chinese people in Namibia, mostly due to the invasion of Chinese building or business projects during the past couple of years. But the curious eyes that stared at me soon turned into excited crescent smiles as they realized Teacher Daniel’s sister had finally arrived.

My first day at Tui Ni Duse was a day I had been anticipating for months! After hearing so much about it from my dad and my brother, who had visited before, and after spending half a semester researching the Namibian education system and similar schools in developing countries for a final project, I was itching to put all my academic knowledge to use. This summer internship at three Namibian schools—Tui Ni Duse, a private pre-school for street children and children who cannot afford to go to government schools; Gobabis Gymnasium School, a government approved private school; and a Namibian public primary school—would not only allow me to pursue my love of teaching in a setting that is close to my heart, but would also give me the opportunity to practice my recently discovered passion for anthropology.

Accordingly, my first week has been spent visiting all three schools, meeting with headmasters and working out my weekly schedule for the next seven weeks. Luckily, my sparse Afrikaans was not a problem as most people also speak English. However, I am glad to say that as a combined result of interest and necessity, my Afrikaans is rapidly improving. It has become crucial for me to learn Afrikaans to teach the children at Tui Ni Duse because they are bilingual in Afrikaans and Damara, their mother tongue which I can only hope to start to learn because of its various clicking sounds that most non-native speakers find challenging.

Of the three schools, I have only yet taught at Tui Ni Duse, where I have observed a need for clearer communication between teacher and students as well as between staff members. At most, the five-year-old school that started as a day care for the squatter camp community has only had three local teachers for its approximately 120 students. Together, the inconsistent attendance of both teachers and students and the low level of education among teachers have made it difficult for efficient education. In my two days at Tui Ni Duse, I have observed the “over-aged” class, which consists of about thirty students from ages 7 to 15 who are behind the state’s age-appropriate standards. Although I am still getting to know each student’s academic capability, I quickly realized that my lessons have to be taught in Afrikaans for the students to understand clearly. Furthermore, the lack of school supplies has led to some creative work on my part, making this challenge all the more exciting.

Despite the obstacles I face at Tui Ni Duse, I find that each hardship pushes me further to find ways to help these children learn and grow. Next week marks the beginning of my stabilized schedule, which is divided between the three schools. Hopefully, my observation and assistant teaching at the two government schools will give me a fuller experience of Namibia’s education system and will aid in my development for a stable and sustainable system at Tui Ni Duse.